EliHec February
by RageCandyBars
Summary: A series of EliHec (Eliwood/Hector) drabbles and oneshots written throughout the month of February, using a few mismatched lists of daily prompts. Day 4: Holding Hands. Eliwood and Hector attend a festival together. Day 5: Cuddling. Eliwood seeks Hector out after a bad dream.
1. Day 1: First Crush

_Because what does a stupid bitch do when she has too many Feelings and far too much time on her hands?_

 _Write a truly stupid number of EliHec oneshots, that's what._

 _Anyway, I can't promise that I'll be able to update consistently once a day, but I will be doing all 28 prompts, hopefully by the end of February, unless something pops up to prevent me from doing so. Since it's gonna be a long challenge, though, the entries will probably all be fairly short._

 _Today's prompt is "First Crush", taken from an art challenge called "Febuqueery". No warnings apply. Not much actual EliHec in this one, but I'll try to make up for that tomorrow._

* * *

 **Day 1: First Crush**

Ever since he'd become Marquess, it seemed like Uther was able to spend less and less time with his brother. Nowadays, he was usually busy, and Hector was usually either stuck with the tutors, training with his axe, or off on one of his spars with Eliwood.

So, when Oswin informed him that Hector had just returned from his latest such sparring session, Uther decided there couldn't be much harm in dropping by for a quick visit. Surely, Marquess Laus' pressing concerns about the quality of Lycian food could wait a few minutes more.

When he poked his head into Hector's quarters, though, he hadn't expected his energetic little brother to be sitting on the edge of his bed, head propped up on one hand, and staring off into the distance with an expression of intense concentration.

Uther raised an eyebrow. "Hector?"

With a surprised "Muh?", Hector lifted his cheek from his hand and turned towards the door. He had an odd, far-off look in his eyes, even now that he was no longer lost in thought. "Oh. Hey, Uther," he said after a moment, then immediately turned away and dropped his chin back onto his palm.

Bemused, Uther ducked through the doorway and, just because he could, plopped down on the mattress beside Hector, whose only response was a vaguely irritated grunt. "What are you up to?" Uther asked once it became clear that Hector was going to keep ignoring him.

Hector responded with a noncommittal hum. "Not much," he admitted, his eyes still fixed on some indistinct point in the distance. "Just... thinking, I guess."

"A truly rare occurrence," Uther immediately shot back.

That, at least, earned him a disgruntled glare, and Hector turned towards him again. "Hey! I think plenty!" he protested. "Get off my case! Jeez! First Eliwood, now you―!"

"Oh, so Eliwood pointed it out, too?" A small but genuine smile crossed Uther's face. "I hate to tell you, Hector, but if people are surprised to see you thinking, then it probably means you could stand to think more oft―"

He paused. Now that they were sitting closer, he could really get a good look at Hector's face. There were a couple new bruises and scrapes here and there―fairly standard injuries for a friendly sparring match―but, much more interestingly, even though the curtains were drawn and no candles lit, the tinge of pink on his cheeks was still very apparent.

"...You're blushing."

Immediately, Hector began to blush harder. "I am _not!"_ he cried, physically scooting away from Uther as if that would mask the unmistakable flush on his face.

"You _are,"_ Uther said, suddenly filled with childish glee. Before Hector could intercept him, he quickly lunged forward and grabbed both of his cheeks, squishing them with an exaggerated cooing noise. "Aw, my little brother's embarrassed―"

With an affronted squawk, Hector shoved him away, and Uther generously allowed himself to be shoved. "I'm _not_ embarrassed!"

"What do you call this, then?" Uther demanded, pointing a finger dramatically at Hector's ears, which were nearly crimson at this point. "Honestly, Hector―if the teasing bothers you so much, then―"

"I'm not blushing over _that!"_ Hector interrupted, then immediately backpedaled when he realized what he'd said. "I―I mean, I'm not blushing _at all―"_

Too late; Uther had already latched on to the admission. "So what _are_ you blushing over, then? Did Eliwood wipe the floor with you?" he guessed.

"No!"

"No? Huh. Did you trip over your own feet and lose the match?"

" _No!"_

"Really? Damn, I was sure I had it right that time―but it _was_ something to do with Eliwood, wasn't it? I mean, it has to be," Uther reasoned. "What _else_ could you be thinking about so intently―?"

He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. Perhaps Hector somehow sensed that he'd been caught, because his eyes widened, too, more out of terror than realization.

"Oh, sweet Elimine," Uther said. "You have a _crush."_

Hector let out a long, incomprehensible string of syllables. " _Out!"_ was the only coherent word he seemed capable of producing, practically tackling Uther off of the bed and shoving him towards the door.

Uther, however, was not so easily deterred. "Who is it?" he demanded, his mind racing as Hector tried to push him through the doorway without much success. "Do I know them? How long have _you_ known them? Is this a serious thing, or just an infatuation thing?"

" _Oh my god, shut up!"_ Hector practically screamed. He finally managed to push Uther over the threshold, but Uther wedged his arm between the door and the doorframe before it could be slammed shut.

"How long have you liked them?" he continued, pushing against the door with all of his body weight as Hector tried to force it shut. "Do you know if they like you back? Are you going to confess?"

" _Uther! Stop! Talking!"_ Hector grit out, clenching his teeth in exertion as he tried in vain to push his brother all the way out.

Unfortunately, his own physical prowess didn't matter much when Uther was older and quite a bit bigger than him. "No way!" Uther said, managing to get his leg through the door as well. "As your older brother, I'm contractually obliged to pester you with prying questions about your first crush!" He paused. "Wait. _Is_ this your first crush?!"

With an undignified noise of frustration, Hector drew back and kicked Uther hard in the shin, forcing him to retreat just enough for the door to nearly close. Still, Uther refused to give in. "What's their hair color?" He, perhaps stupidly, pushed his face through the dwindling crack in the door. "Come on, what's the harm in telling me? Just tell me that and I'll leave you alone, I promise!" he blatantly lied. "Just tell me what color their hair is! Come on, Hector! What color is―?"

" _Red!"_ Hector practically shrieked, his frustration finally reaching its peak. "His hair is _red!_ Now _leave me alone!"_

As Hector's voice echoed throughout the hallway, both brothers suddenly fell still, stopping their struggle for control of the door. For a solid ten seconds, they just stared at each other with wide eyes, frozen in place. Hector's face turned an unhealthy color, somewhere between red and purple.

"Wait," Uther said belatedly, "his?"

"Um," was Hector's witty reply.

The gears in Uther's head were turning very slowly at the moment, but it still didn't take him very long to piece the puzzle together.

" _Wait,"_ he said, " _ **ELIWOOD?!"**_

Hector screamed like a banshee and, with a sudden surge of adrenaline, slammed the door shut.

By the time Uther returned to his senses, he'd already been locked out. Still, he jiggled the doorknob uselessly in a vain attempt to get back in. "Hector, come on!" he called through the door. "Let me in!"

"Don't ever talk to or look at me ever again," Hector responded, voice muffled but clearly strained.

"Oh, don't be like that!" Giving up on the knob, Uther turned to press his ear against the mahogany, raising his voice to make sure Hector could hear him. "Don't be embarrassed! You two make a good pair!"

" _Uther, oh my god, shut up!"_

Despite himself, Uther laughed, his head falling back against the door. Despite his surprise, now that he thought about it, Hector having a crush on Eliwood... made a lot of sense. And they really _were_ a good pair. Hopefully, this particular crush was requited―as Marquess of Ostia, he had a vested interest in keeping affairs with other territories civil, and, as Hector's older brother, he had the absolute right to do horrible things to anyone who broke his brother's heart.

...And, as Hector's only parental figure of sorts, he currently had one more crucial unfulfilled duty.

"Hector, let me in," he called, rapping on the door. "I swear to the Seven, I'm not going to tease you, but there's something I need to tell you. It's important."

A long moment passed, but, finally, Hector slowly cracked the door open, staring out at Uther with one wary eye. "...What?"

Uther met his gaze steadily, without faltering. "There are some things that Mother and Father never got a chance to tell you," he said very solemnly. "Things that the tutors won't teach you in classes."

He could practically smell the curiosity rolling off of Hector in waves. Cautiously, he opened the door a bit more, taking a step over the threshold. "Yeah?"

Placing both his hands heavily on Hector's shoulders, Uther looked him dead in the eye, making sure to impart the gravity of the situation through his expression alone. He paused for a moment to let the tension build.

"Hector," he said seriously, "when two consenting adults love each other very much―"

Uther went to court that evening with a black eye and a huge, self-satisfied grin on his face.


	2. Day 2: Fighting

_This one is coming to you one day late, but I plan to get today's out on time._

 _This one is also a bit gayer than the last one, but it also contains the slightest glimmer of drama. But, honestly, given the fact that the prompt was "fighting", I think I'm justified. I mean, think of how many much angstier routes I could have taken with this. Instead, I just gave you more squabbling and flustered Hector. I can't promise the rest of the prompts will all be so fluffy._

 _Anyway, today's prompt was actually supposed to be "flirting", from a Valentine's month OTP prompt list, but I misread it at "fighting", so you get this instead._

* * *

When their bimonthly spar finally reached its conclusion, Eliwood was panting heavily, his chest heaving and his face beet red, but the tip of his blunted training rapier was pressed against Hector's neck.

For a moment, they both froze, trying to catch their breath; then, with a melodramatic groan, Hector slowly lowered his axe. "Damn," he wheezed, "I really... thought I... had you there."

"So... did I," Eliwood admitted between gasps, withdrawing his sword from Hector's throat and leaning on it like a crutch. "Y-you've... gotten faster."

Hector deflected the compliment with a low grunt, staggering back, discarding his axe entirely, and sitting heavily on the ground. "Still not... as fast as you."

After only a moment of hesitation, Eliwood sheathed his sword and joined Hector on the ground. "Maybe so," he said, "but you're... still stronger. If you'd landed... even one hit, I would've been... done for."

"Still." With a great sigh, Hector flopped onto his back, his eyes sliding closed. "I'm impressed. You're... quite the opponent, El."

Despite himself, Eliwood let out a breathless laugh, slumping over into an unbecoming slouch. "High praise, coming from you," he muttered, hiding his pleased smile behind his palm. "You're certainly no weakling yourself... I'm increasingly more and more glad that we're on the same side."

"Yeah, same here," Hector responded, though he made no move to sit back up or open his eyes. A brief, comfortable silence fell between them; then, without moving, Hector added, "For more reasons than one."

Eliwood looked up from his lap. "What?"

Still, Hector didn't so much as twitch; he remained sprawled out limply across the ground, his eyes closed. "I'm happy we're on the same side," he said after a moment, "and not just because you're a good fighter. I dunno if I could handle... _not_ being on the same side with you."

The mere idea gave Eliwood pause. Him and Hector on opposite sides? Fighting against one another, not in a friendly test of skills, but with actual intent to harm? It was enough to make him shiver. "...Yeah," he muttered. "Me either. Just thinking about it... feels wrong. I mean... if we were fighting each other―truly fighting―then something would have to be amiss, right?"

"Definitely," Hector agreed. "I think... if we were fighting, then there would have to be some sort of... misunderstanding, or something. 'Cause, otherwise..." He lay his arm across his face, hiding his eyes from view. "...I couldn't bring myself to actually hurt you."

Eliwood tried to picture it. Hector swinging Wolf Beil at him with unbridled ferocity; yelling in that dramatic way he always did on the battlefield; coming at him with every intention of leaving him dead on the ground.

He tried to imagine doing the same to Hector.

"...Yeah," he said quietly. "Me either."

A brief, awkward moment passed; then Hector heaved a sigh, rolling onto his side. "Besides," he said, "it'd be weird if we actually disagreed on something that big. Y'know, since we're both... good people, and all."

Eliwood hummed softly. "I don't know," he said. "I mean, it _would_ be weird, but... sometimes, good people can still be on the wrong side. And, I mean, we've had big disagreements before. You remember those kids that tried to pickpocket me that one time―what was it, four months ago?"

Even though his arm was draped across his face, hiding most of his expression, Hector's scowl was still evident. "Yeah," he grumbled, fists clenching. "Little punks."

Despite himself, Eliwood chuckled. "I see you still hold a grudge. Not that I'm surprised. You were furious at them, even when I told you it was fine. ...We had a big fight over it, remember?"

Hector turned his head away, even though his eyes were already covered. "...Yeah."

"We may have compromised in the end," Eliwood continued, "but... I mean, what if it had been about something bigger? What if they had been... I don't know, murderers instead of pickpockets, and I had still told you to just let them go?"

"You wouldn't," Hector shot back without hesitation, removing his arm from his face and turning back towards Elliwood. The look in his eyes was... intense. "You're nice, not stupid," he continued, his voice firm. "You wouldn't let someone like that―someone who truly deserved to be punished―get away scot-free."

Eliwood couldn't help but quail slightly under the certainty in Hector's gaze. "O-okay, but if I _did,_ then you would fight me on it, wouldn't you?"

"No," was Hector's response, so flat and monotone that it was impossible to refute. "Not a chance."

Eliwood blinked at him. "What?"

"You heard me." Hector pushed himself off of the ground so that he was face-to-face with Eliwood, his legs crossed lazily beneath him. "I'm pretty sure you're usually right about that kind of stuff. So, if we didn't agree, and I couldn't change your mind, I would just have to live with it." His face was very serious, but also almost... casual. As if he thought this was blatantly obvious.

"B-but... back then, we fought about those pickpockets for a long time," Eliwood pointed out, a bit shaken by Hector's words. "You wanted to hunt them down and teach them a lesson―"

"But I didn't, did I?" Hector interrupted. "Because you said not to."

Eliwood spluttered incoherently. "H-Hector, cut it out," he eventually managed, reaching up to cover his face with both hands. "You're gonna make me blush."

He could practically hear the grin start to spread across Hector's face as the other boy scooted closer. "A little too late for that, I think," he teased, pressing a finger into Eliwood's flushed cheek. "C'mon, Eliwood, are you really surprised? Everybody knows you're the smart one."

Well, Eliwood couldn't exactly stop hiding his face now―he didn't want Hector to see the extent of his blush, nor the huge, dopey grin that was starting to spread across his face. "That doesn't mean you're the _dumb_ one," he insisted, even as the flattery made his ears burn. "I can still be wrong, you know!"

"Obviously," Hector snorted, coming even closer and ruffling Eliwood's hair playfully. "But I think I'll take my chances. I may not be the dumb one, but... well, I'll be the first to admit that I'm sure as hell not the second-smartest, either."

That startled a laugh out of Eliwood. "Hector, there are only two of us! If you're not second-smartest, what are you?"

Hector scoffed. "I'm the strong one, _obviously,"_ he said, feigning an arrogant toss of his head.

Eliwood couldn't contain a snort. "Oh, yeah?" He peeled his hands off of his face to shoot Hector a mischievous grin. "Well, this _strong one_ just got his butt kicked not five minutes ago."

With an indignant gasp, Hector clutched his heart dramatically. "The _disrespect!"_ he cried. " _I'll have you know_ that, in a _real_ fight, you wouldn't even stand a chance!"

"Oh, _please,"_ Eliwood said with exaggerated disdain. "I could wipe the floor with you, you big lug."

"Oh?" Hector grinned, mischief sparkling dangerously in his eyes. "Is that so? You could wipe the floor with me? Is that right, Eliwood? Hm?"

Before Eliwood could answer, Hector suddenly leaned forward and draped himself over the smaller man like a blanket, pushing him towards the ground. "Agh!" Eliwood sputtered, trying in vain to remain upright as he was slowly pushed into the dirt. "Hector, get off! You're all sweaty and gross!"

"No," Hector replied simply; then, with much more drama, he added, "I can't! I'm so hurt by what you said... I can't seem to hold my body upright!"

By this point, Eliwood was sprawled out face-down on the ground, Hector essentially laying across his back. "Likely story!" he laughed, squirming under Hector's superior bulk. "Budge up, you oaf!"

"I can't," Hector repeated with a lugubrious sigh, going completely limp and trapping Eliwood under his dead weight. "My feelings are hurt too badly."

" _Feelings_ my foot!"

For a moment more, Eliwood just tried to wriggle out from underneath Hector with very little success. Eventually, he just gave up with an exaggerated groan.

"Ugh, _Hector,_ you smell _so bad,"_ he whined, though he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face.

"Hmph. You aren't exactly a bed of roses, either," Hector replied snootily.

"Then _get off of me!"_

"I _told_ you, I _can't!"_

They were both laughing, but Eliwood really did reach up to fan the air away from his face. "Hector, I'm _begging_ you, at least put your arms down," he pleaded between giggles.

In response, Hector shoved his armpit directly into Eliwood's face.

"AGH! _HECTOR!"_ Eliwood shrieked, flailing wildly and jerking his head away. "Ugh! _Blech!_ I got armpit sweat on my _face! Gah! Cooties! Cooties!"_

Hector was laughing too hard to make any more cracks, but he did generously lower his arms again, saving Eliwood from his pit stench. "You ready to give up yet, little lordling of Pherae?" he teased once he regained his breath.

" _Never!"_ Eliwood cried defiantly.

"Well, if _that's_ the way you feel..." Hector slowly began to lift his arm again.

"No! _Please, anything but that!"_

Hector kept his arm raised, but he didn't shove it into Eliwood's face again. "Then take back what you said."

"Okay! _Fine!"_ Eliwood groaned, still clawing at his face as if he could physically tear away the bad smell, even as he giggled helplessly into the dirt. "I take it back! You're not an oaf! Just get off me!"

"So you admit that I'm the strong one?" Hector demanded, even though he was already propping himself up to let Eliwood slide out from under him.

Turning onto his back, Eliwood stared up at Hector, still fighting to restrain his laughter. Once he managed to reign himself in, the grin on his face vanished, and he replaced it with an intense look of contemplation. "Hmm," he said out loud, gripping his chin thoughtfully as he deliberated.

Then a bright, blithe smile crossed his face. "Nope! I could still wipe the floor with you. Oaf."

Before Hector could retaliate, though, Eliwood reached up and placed a surprisingly gentle hand on his cheek. "But, if it makes you feel any better," he said cheekily, "you _are_ the handsome one."

With that, he slipped out from underneath Hector and pushed himself back onto his feet. "I dunno about you," he said, cracking his shoulders and bouncing energetically on the balls of his feet, "but I feel completely rejuvenated! I think we should go another round before we part ways. What say you?"

Behind him, Hector slowly fell back onto the ground, burying his face in his hands. "Sh-shut up. Don't look at me."

"Aw, is that a no?" Eliwood smirked down at him. "But I thought you were the strong one."

" _Eliwood, I swear to the gods―"_


	3. Day 3: Forget About You

_...Speaking of not every drabble being happy..._

 _Well, this one isn't really that angsty, and there is a happy ending, despite the low word count, so... I will accept no complaints. With that said, I tried to wrap this one up a bit quicker than the last two, because my angst is notorious for expanding into ridiculous word counts, so sorry if the ending seems rushed. I might make a continuation for this one, who knows. /shrug emoji_

 _Today's prompt was "You really thought I would just forget about you? It's not that easy." So, uh... it should be pretty obvious why this turned out the way it did._

* * *

"Hector."

Two weeks ago, if you had told Hector that the sound of Eliwood's voice could fill him with dread, he would've laughed in your face. Eliwood's presence being unwelcome? Ludicrous. But, well. He couldn't exactly argue with the sudden cold feeling in his stomach, nor the instinctual tensing of his shoulders, nor the ever-so-slight tingle of his spine.

Swallowing down his hesitation, he slowly lowered the training weight in his hand and turned to look over his shoulder. Eliwood was standing a few short paces away, hovering between two trees at the edge of the clearing. His face was carefully blank.

"Hey, Eliwood," Hector said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

For all of his faults, when it really came down to it, Eliwood always cut straight to the chase. "You've been avoiding me," he said bluntly; not a question, but a statement, plain and simple.

Hector's throat was dry. He probably should've said something along the lines of, _"Have I? That's news to me,"_ or maybe, _"If I have been, it certainly wasn't intentional."_ But, when it came to Eliwood, he could never bring himself to lie, so what came out of his mouth was just, "It was that obvious, huh?"

For the briefest of moments, Eliwood's face twisted into something ugly and pained, and it sucker-punched Hector right in the stomach. Then Eliwood composed himself, took a deep breath, and crossed the clearing in a few quick strides.

Hector looked away as Eliwood came to stand behind him, unable to bear the brunt of his sharp gaze. After a moment, Eliwood stepped over the log Hector was sitting on and slowly lowered himself onto the damp bark.

"Why?" he asked once it became clear that Hector wasn't planning on explaining himself.

No reaction.

Eliwood huffed out an aggravated sigh. "Alright," he muttered, making himself comfortable at Hector's side. "We can do it your way, then. Did you have another fight with Lyn?"

No reaction.

"Is it me, specifically, you're avoiding, or just people in general?"

No reaction.

Eliwood's anger mounted. "Are you planning on _stopping_ anytime soon, or are you going to keep acting like a child?"

No reaction.

"Hector, please." The irritation in Eliwood's voice turned to desperation and concern. "You're scaring me. I've barely seen you around camp in _weeks._ Every time I _do_ see you, you make an excuse and run away as soon as possible. Then I go to your tent, and it looks like it hasn't been slept in at all." A warm hand landed on Hector's shoulder, and he successfully hid his flinch. _"Please,_ Hector, just―tell me what's wrong."

Hector swallowed thickly. He knew that Eliwood saw his Adam's apple bob, because the hand on his shoulder tightened in anticipation. Still, he could summon no words; they simply died halfway up his throat. He opened and closed his mouth helplessly.

Slowly, Eliwood removed his hand from Hector's shoulder, and, for a single nausea-inducing moment, Hector thought he was going to get up and leave. It would be within his rights to do so. Then Eliwood said, "What did I do?" in a soft, hurt voice, which was so much _worse_ that Hector felt foolish for fearing anything else.

"No," Hector said sharply, his head snapping around as the sound finally dislodged itself from his throat. "Eliwood, it's―this has nothing to do with you."

"Well, what am I _supposed_ to think?" Eliwood demanded, his face so open that Hector felt like he should avert his eyes. "You just start pretending that I don't even exist, and I'm supposed to―what, _assume_ that I'm not the problem?"

Hector didn't have an answer for that. "I―" he began, then cut himself off with a frustrated noise. "I wasn't trying to... I didn't..."

Eliwood was still staring at him, wide-eyed and worried, and Hector swallowed again. "I didn't think about that," he admitted quietly, averting his eyes.

"Then what _were_ you thinking?"

Pressing his lips together, Hector turned to stare off into the distance, though he could still feel Eliwood's gaze trained on his face. No use trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking," he muttered, "that, if you saw me, you would realize something was wrong."

Several moments passed in tense silence. "And?" Eliwood prompted.

Hector's fists clenched. _"And_ you have plenty of things to worry about without me being one of them," he said through gritted teeth. "I thought... with everything else going on, if I just avoided you, then maybe you wouldn't notice... and then..." Gods, it seemed so stupid now that he was thinking back on it. "I don't know, I just... I didn't want to put anything else on your plate."

Although he'd clearly failed at that.

He half-expected Eliwood to immediately berate him for his stupidity―it really was _so damn obvious_ that this whole "seclude yourself to protect Eliwood" plan had been completely counterproductive from the get-go―but, when he hesitantly glanced back over, Eliwood was just staring at him, morose and silent.

Before Hector could ask, Eliwood suddenly moved forward, wrapping his arms around Hector in a firm, tight embrace.

"You really thought I would just forget about you?" he mumbled into Hector's side. Chest aching, Hector opened his mouth to respond, but Eliwood cut him off with a single upward glance. "It's not that easy, Hector," he said. Somehow, his voice was free of judgement.

Hector looked away. Then, very slowly, he wrapped one arm gingerly around Eliwood's shoulders.

"I know," he said.

Eliwood got comfortable, settling into Hector's side like he was planning on staying there for a while. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked after a moment. "Whatever's bothering you, I'm here to listen."

Hector closed his eyes. "...Maybe in a minute," he reluctantly acquiesced, even though the idea of burdening Eliwood any further was incredibly unappealing. "But... for now, can I just..." He shifted uncertainly, and Eliwood moved with him. "...Can we just... stay like this?"

 _Can I just be selfish for a little while longer?_

"Of course," Eliwood said, and then he pressed his face into Hector's shirt and didn't say another word.

Hector felt Eliwood's breaths against his side, felt the familiar, steadying weight pressing against him. Letting out a breath of his own, he finally allowed himself to relax.


	4. Day 4: Hand Holding

_This is stupid and gay, just take it. Prompt today was "hand holding"._

* * *

It started with a sudden wave of people pouring through the marketplace and Hector instinctively grabbing Eliwood's hand.

"Whoa!" he said, squeezing through the gap between two people and pulling Eliwood along with him. Unfortunately, the incoming crowd was even bigger than it had looked, and he found himself closely surrounded on all sides, being jostled this way and that. If they hadn't been gripping each other's hands for dear life, they would've lost sight of one another almost immediately.

"Watch it," Hector found himself blurting out as the people passed by too close on either side, threatening to yank Eliwood's hand from his grasp. He quickly glanced around for a way out, but he could find none; it was like trying to swim upstream.

Eliwood slipped between what looked like two identical lumberjacks and pressed up close to his back. "Stay close," Hector shouted over his shoulder, and he prayed that Eliwood could hear him over the ruckus. With that, he squared his shoulders and plowed through the crowd, letting Eliwood follow behind in his wake.

A few dozen dirty looks (and polite ' _Pardon me's_ from Eliwood) later, he had successfully navigated to a large tree beside the road, and they huddled together behind its trunk to wait for the crowd to dissipate. "That sure came on quick," Hector remarked, still disgruntled, but Eliwood just laughed.

"It is a very popular festival, Hector," he said. "Lots of people come from neighboring villages to celebrate here. I'm sure a lot of them move in crowds with the people they know, even without realizing it."

That made a lot of sense, but Hector still grumbled as the herd finally began to thin. "Could at least watch where they're going..."

With a cheeky grin, Eliwood elbowed him lightly in the side. "I'm sure they saw you, Hector―hard to miss that big dumb face of yours." Then, ignoring Hector's spluttered protests, he pointed at a nearby food stand. "Let's go try some of that! It looks delicious!"

"Don't change the subject―" Hector began, but he paused when Eliwood pulled his hand out of Hector's and weaved through the remaining people towards the food stand in question. Startled, he glanced down at his now-empty hand, which was slightly sweaty where his palm had been pressed against Eliwood's for too long.

He'd completely forgotten that they were _holding hands_ like that―

With a sharp huff, Hector shook his head. It was over now. No sense dwelling. Even if he did kind of want to grab Eliwood's hand again.

* * *

Maybe an hour later, while they were watching some very talented men spin around lit torches like toys, Eliwood gasped and lunged for Hector's hand. "Hector, look!" he cried, pointing towards the stage.

Hector froze. He looked down at their joined hands, then up at Eliwood.

The fire cast a flickering golden glow over Eliwood's gleeful expression, playing off of his red hair in a way that almost made it look like a roaring flame. His eyes were sparkling; his cheeks flushed with excitement; his mouth open in a huge, beaming smile. As the rest of the audience gasped, he leaned forward in anticipation, his eyes widening even further. His grip on Hector's hand tightened minutely.

When the crowd went wild, so did Eliwood. He thrust both hands into the air, dragging Hector's hand up with him, and whooped loudly. "Bravo!" he hollered, though he could barely be heard over the sound of clapping hands. After a moment, he turned towards Hector, still grinning. "Did you see that?!" he shouted over the din, practically giddy.

Hector blinked, then numbly turned towards the stage. The performers were bowing theatrically to thunderous applause. Each one was carrying two torches in each hand.

"Uh, no," he said. "I missed it."

"What?! _Hector!"_ Eliwood chided, but he couldn't even feign offense; not when he was still smiling like a madman. "How?! I told you when it was about to happen and everything!"

Luckily, he was fairly certain that the heat in his cheeks could be written off as excitement, just like Eliwood's. "Sorry, I... got distracted."

Eliwood just laughed in response, then let go of Hector's hand to join in the applause. This time, Hector was unable to convince himself that he didn't miss the warm pressure of Eliwood's fingers around his palm.

* * *

The festival stretched long into the evening, and Hector spent much of that time stealing furtive glances at Eliwood's hand, trying to work up the courage to make a grab for it.

Clearly, Eliwood didn't mind holding his hand, so he wasn't really scared of a negative reaction. Nevertheless, he wanted to wait for the right time to make a move. Acting without thinking was all well and good in day-to-day life, but his usual lack of finesse wouldn't cut it here―not when it was something this... strange.

The slightest misstep ran the risk of making Eliwood think poorly of him.

Luck wasn't on his side, though, and the opportunity he was looking for never seemed to come. There were no more sudden stampedes; no more stunning carnival tricks; _nothing_ that would necessitate hand-holding.

The sun had set, and the festival was almost over. If he didn't act soon, he would miss his chance entirely.

As Hector deliberated, Eliwood slowed to a stop at the side of the road, peering into a small garden in front of someone's house. A strange, conflicted look crossed his face. "Hector, over here," he called after a moment, beckoning with one hand, and Hector obediently plodded up to his side. "Look at these flowers." It was a command, not a request, spoken with an audible hint of disdain, and he indicated the garden with a dismissive flick of his hand.

With a contemplative frown, Hector leaned over and inspected the flowerbed. The plants inside were sundry, with various colors, shapes, and sizes, but he couldn't see anything particularly striking about them. It was neither a particularly beautiful display, nor an eyesore.

"...Hm," he said, trying not to let on how confused he was.

Apparently, that was all the encouragement Eliwood needed. " _Look_ at them!" he snapped, throwing his hands up in outrage. "They're not organized at _all!_ Tulips, peonies, and _daffodils,_ all lumped together? _Seriously?_ And just look at the _colors!"_ He jabbed a finger at the far end of the bed. "Some of the red tulips are here, but then _some_ of them are over _here,_ and one is _here,_ and then the orange tulips are _here_ with _some_ of the orange peonies, but then _some_ of the peonies are _here!_ Did they think this through at _all?"_

As he fumed, Hector watched the emotions play across his face―the indignation; the contempt; as if this poorly-planned flowerbed had been a personal assault on his sensibilities―and he felt a soft, fond sort of affection well up in his chest. For the briefest of moments, his already-lowered inhibitions abandoned him entirely, and, recklessly, he reached out and seized Eliwood's hand in his own.

Eliwood paused in the middle of his angry diatribe about the aesthetic insignificance of daffodils. First, he glanced down at their linked hands; then he turned towards Hector. He looked surprised, perhaps a bit confused, but there was no scorn in his voice when he said, "Hector?" with an inquisitive tilt of his head.

Emboldened by this success, Hector impulsively lifted Eliwood's hand and gave it a brief, discreet kiss.

For a moment, Eliwood just stared at him, eyes wide and uncomprehending. Then a faint blush spread across his face, followed by a small, pleased smile. "Oh," he said softly, placing his free hand over his heart.

Slowly, Eliwood gripped Hector's hand, as daintily as you would hold a lady's. Lifting it up, he bowed down and pressed it against his forehead for a moment. Then, with a tender glance towards Hector, he laced their fingers together and let both their hands fall between them, still comfortably locked together.

They locked eyes for a minute, staring at each other in silence, before Eliwood finally glanced away. Hector coughed into his free hand.

"So," he said, his voice rough and quiet, "you were saying? ...About the pennies."

" _Peonies,_ Hector," Eliwood corrected, but his smile didn't falter.


	5. Day 5: Cuddling

_it's a day late, but here it is, boys_

* * *

When Eliwood jolted awake, he was sweating profusely, his pulse pounding in his neck. Around him, his tent was dark and silent, save for the faint sounds of wind, insects, and animals. There was no discernable reason for his heart to be racing like this.

After a moment, he breathed out heavily and closed his eyes. It had been a while since he last woke like this, his chest heaving with each inhale and his body trembling minutely beneath the covers. Whatever he'd dreamed about, though, it had fled from his mind immediately upon waking.

He didn't mind.

Hector never asked, even when he was clearly curious.

Slowly, Eliwood peeled himself out of his cot, the sheets clinging to his damp skin like glue. First things first: in the total darkness, he carefully stripped off his sweat-soaked nightshirt and tried to clean himself somewhat. He wouldn't be venturing to the bathing tent―not at this hour―but he didn't intend to subject Hector to his stench, either.

Once he'd dried himself off and rubbed some shavings of soap into his armpits, he pulled his cloak over his shoulders, wrapping it tightly around himself. He couldn't put that nightshirt back on before washing it, which he didn't have the energy to do now, but it was a chilly night, and wandering around the camp shirtless would be foolish in the first place.

He had to blindly grope around for the tent flap, but, luckily, there was at least enough light to see by outside. The moon was almost full, a bright egg in the sky, and the faint flickering light of the watchmen's torches cast long shadows through the rows of tents.

Hector's tent was set up nearby, and no one else was up and about at this time of night. Still, he ducked his head bashfully and hurried through the clearing, gripping his cloak tightly. As far as he knew, no one else was aware of his and Hector's peculiar sleeping arrangements―they were a relatively recent development, after all―so there were bound to be questions if he was caught.

But he was not caught, and he quickly crossed the gap between his tent and Hector's, brushed the canvas aside, and stepped in.

Even in sleep, Hector was hard to miss; he lay on his back, half-on and half-off his sleeping pad, limbs sprawled this way and that, with his bedsheets twisted and bunched around his body. Right now, the sheets in question were tangled around his waist and hips like some mix between a loincloth and a toga, leaving most of his torso and legs uncovered, and his nightclothes were equally disheveled.

Despite how uncomfortable and restless his position looked, Eliwood knew how to recognize when Hector was in a deep sleep, and he hesitated for a moment, his shoulder holding the tent flap open. Perhaps it was selfish of him to wake Hector for something like this, even if he _had_ volunteered. Perhaps it would be better if he just returned to his tent.

Then Hector stirred, his head jolting as the beginning of a rumbling snore turned into a startled snort, and it was too late to turn back. After a moment, Hector grunted indistinctly, shifted in the sheets, and pried his eyes open.

A month ago―even a week ago―Eliwood might have cringed when Hector blearily looked up at him, exhaustion evident in his slack jaw. He would have fled, letting the tent flap swing shut behind him and guiltily hoping that Hector would think it had just been his imagination.

Eliwood waited for Hector's eyes to come into focus. "Hey."

For a few seconds, Hector just stared at him, his face almost completely blank. Even after Eliwood's presence seemed to actually sink in, he remained sluggish and half-awake, his every movement lethargic. Another ten seconds or so passed as he stretched, his joints cracking, and then he wearily rubbed his eyes.

"Nightmare?" he guessed, his voice low and rough with sleep.

"Yeah," Eliwood said.

This time, Hector reacted much more quickly. Without actually getting up, he awkwardly disentangled himself from his sheets. There was a lot of rolling around and frustrated grunts, but, finally, he freed himself, yanking the sheets out from underneath his body.

"C'mere," he said, and Eliwood quickly complied, crossing the tent in two short strides. After a moment of hesitation, he discarded his cloak, letting it land in a pile beside the cot, and then slowly lowered himself to the ground, his knees cracking.

As soon as he was within grabbing range, Hector reached forward and tried to take a handful of his shirt, only to end up scratching uselessly at his bare collarbone. "Hector," Eliwood said sharply, but he couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice.

Hector, meanwhile, just stared at his empty hand, confused, as if the concept of not being able to pull Eliwood around by his collar was absolutely incomprehensible to his sleep-muddled brain. "Shirt," he said after a long moment, sounding truly baffled, and it was enough to startle a genuine smile out of Eliwood.

"It was sweaty," he explained, lowering himself onto his side. "Trust me, you don't want me to wear it."

" _Shirt,"_ Hector repeated petulantly.

Eliwood stifled a snort. "You'd change your mind if you could smell it right now."

In response, Hector just made grabby hands in front of Eliwood's chest, groaning vaguely in irritation.

This time, Eliwood laughed, loud and genuine, before quickly slapping a palm over his mouth. "Y-you don't have to ma―manhandle me, Hector," he said through a wave of chuckles. "I can move on my own."

To prove his point, he scooted towards Hector, edging onto the sleeping pad. As soon as he was close enough, though, Hector just grabbed him under the arms anyway, tugging him close. Eliwood made a dramatic noise of protest, but he didn't bother resisting as Hector hefted him into his arms, forcing him to practically faceplant into Hector's chest, and started trying to arrange the sheets around them.

The way Hector held him was casual and perfunctory. It wasn't an embrace so much as a carry―as if Eliwood was just an object that he needed to take with him, but he also needed to keep his hands free, so he had to tuck Eliwood under his arm while he worked. Hector was always exceedingly tactile, but, when he was half-asleep like this, there was an added layer of nonchalance. Sleepy Hector was handsy in an almost pragmatic way; less like he was touching and more like he was taking stock, or crossing items off a list. _Get the sheets untangled; get the cot straightened; grab Eliwood; get the pillow laid out..._

The thoughtless way Hector seemed to reach for him on instinct alone was sometimes a bit irritating, but it was also very flattering and strangely reassuring. It was nice to know that Hector viewed this whole thing―Eliwood seeking him out after a bad dream―as an everyday occurrence; a simple bucket list of steps, rather than a huge hassle. So simple that he didn't even bother waking up entirely―nor did he stop to realize that he didn't actually have to pick Eliwood up.

It proved that, when Hector claimed Eliwood wasn't a bother, he meant it.

That was why, even though it irked him, Eliwood just relaxed, resting his head against Hector's collar while the Ostian lordling fussed with the blankets. Once he was satisfied, he set Eliwood down very carefully, like a fragile glass ornament, in sharp contrast to the careless way he'd grabbed him. To fit comfortably on the sleeping pad, they had to squeeze in close to each other, and Hector wearily dragged the blankets up over them both.

Once they were both huddled beneath the blankets, a comfortable silence fell between them. Eliwood hesitated for only a moment before turning onto his side and tentatively pressing his back against Hector's arm.

Almost immediately, Hector rolled over and threw an arm across Eliwood, pulling him into his chest and mumbling incoherently into his hair. Eliwood smiled privately to himself, sinking further into Hector's arms and closing his eyes.

"Thank you, Hector," he whispered, placing his hand over Hector's and squeezing it lightly.

He almost didn't feel the quick kiss that Hector landed on the back of his head. "Any time," Hector murmured directly into his ear. "Night, Eliwood."

"Good night."


End file.
